Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Painful Day
by Kara1626
Summary: Set between "Meet Me Inside" and "That Would be Enough" because we *know* something happened there. WARNING: Contains punishment/spanking of young adults.


**WARNING:** Contains physical punishment/spanking of young adults. Don't like? Don't read.

* * *

"I can't disobey a direct order," Alex said, glancing sideways at the General as he retreated.

"Then I'll do it," John answered.

Alex hesitated for just a moment before agreeing with John's plan. He knew better, but still, Charles couldn't be allowed to get away with disparaging the General's good name.

* * *

Charles dropped to the ground, grasping at his side.

"Lee, do you yield?" Alex shouted across the field.

"You shot him in the side! Yes, he yields!" Aaron shouted back, also dropping to the ground next to Charles, immediately trying to pull Charles' hand away to see how badly he was hurt.

"Here comes the General!" someone in the growing crowd shouted.

"This should be fun," Aaron murmured.

Alex felt his stomach drop a bit. Fortunately, the General focused on Charles, quickly examining his injury, then ordering Aaron to go get a medic.

"These young men don't speak for me," Alex heard the General explain. "Thank you for your service." The medic got Charles to his feet and escorted him to the hospital tent, Aaron following close behind.

Then the General turned on his heel. "Hamilton," he barked.

"Sir?"

"Meet me inside!"

Alex's stomach dropped some more. He'd never heard the General use that tone of voice with anyone before. This was bad! He turned toward John, gave him a wink, hoping his friend wouldn't see how scared he was, and trotted off toward the General's tent.

* * *

Alex stood at attention, staring straight ahead as the General paced back and forth, but as much as he wished he could keep quiet and take the lecture being handed out, his tongue always seemed to get the better of him.

"Son," the General began.

"Don't call me Son," Alex spat back.

The General ignored him, and continued, "There's enough going on with this war without the infighting."

"He dragged your name through the mud!" Alex exclaimed.

"Son, my name's been through a lot."

"I'm not your son!"

"Watch your tone!" the General answered, finally raising his voice. "I can handle it. I don't need you to defend me," he continued, softening again.

"Sir, if you would just give me my own command…" Alex began, but the General cut him off like he always did when Alex brought up this subject.

"No."

"Why not?"

"We need you alive. Your wife needs you alive. Son, I need you alive."

Alex snapped. "Call me son one more time!" Even before the words were fully out of his mouth, he shrunk back in horror. What had he done?

"Go home, Alexander," came the deadly quiet reply.

"Sir…"

"Go home. That's an order from your commander."

* * *

Alex walked slowly back to his tent, his heart pounding, tears threatening to spill over. "_What did you do?_" he asked himself. "_That man has been the only father you've ever known. What did you just do?_"

John's head snapped up as soon as Alex pulled back the flap on their tent. He'd been sitting on the edge of his cot, waiting for his best friend to return from what was bound to be an unpleasant meeting with the General. "What happened?" he asked, jumping to his feet. Alex gave him a sad look, and shook his head. "Alex…"

Alex shook his head again as he reached under his cot and pulled out his trunk.

John's eyes grew wide. "He dismissed you?"

Alex swallowed hard, but still didn't trust his voice not to betray his tears.

John squatted down next to him and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Alex, what happened?"

Finally, Alex found his voice. "Nothing." John gave him a look, and Alex knew he couldn't lie. "He's sending me home."

"You didn't even do anything!" John exclaimed. "I'm the one who challenged Charles to the duel. I'm the one who shot him. Why is he punishing _you_?"

Alex closed the lid of his trunk and sat on it. He hesitated, still in disbelief at what he had done. "That's not why," he said quietly. "I yelled at him," he finally admitted.

"You what?"

Alex looked up at his friend for the first time, his blood beginning to boil again. "He kept calling me 'Son' and making me feel like a little kid! I snapped at him…and he ordered me to go home."

"Alex…" John said, sitting back on his cot. "What were you thinking? Be glad he's sending you home. Do you know what could happen to you?"

Alex shook his head and dropped it into his hands. "I know," came the muffled response. "I could go to prison…"

Their conversation was interrupted by the bugle calling them to supper. "You go ahead," Alex said quietly. "I'm not hungry."

* * *

The next morning, Alex placed the last of his things in his trunk, shut the lid, and locked it. He still couldn't believe what he had done, and he still couldn't believe his military career was over. And the General… He silently prayed he would never have to face him again, but even as the words formed in his mind, he knew that was impossible. They would likely always run in the same circles.

A moment later, John walked into the tent. "The General wants to see you," he said quietly.

"What?" Alex said, quickly standing up and turning to face his friend. "What's wrong?" he asked, noticing John's red face, and that he seemed to be in pain.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Don't keep him waiting," John answered.

Alex gave him one last look, then headed out quickly. John was right - he shouldn't leave the General waiting. But even as he hurried across the field, he wondered what the General could possibly have to say to him at this point.

"Sir?" Alex spoke quietly as he stood at the entrance to the General's tent.

Washington looked up from the papers on his desk, then stood, beckoning Alex with a wave of his hand.

Alex took up his position at attention in front of the General's desk, bracing himself for another stern lecture, even though he didn't know what else was left to say.

"Are you packed?" the General finally asked, his voice quiet and calm as usual.

"Yes, Sir."

The General nodded and stared at Alex for a long minute before putting his hands behind his back and straightening up. "Alexander, we need to talk about what happened yesterday."

Alex looked at him, then quickly away again. "Sir," he said, staring straight ahead, "I think you made yourself perfectly clear. That duel was stupid."

Alex missed the small grin that flitted across the General's face. "I'm not talking about the duel, Son," he replied, slightly emphasizing the last word.

Once again, Alex's heart dropped into his stomach. "Oh."

The General walked around to the other side of the desk. "Look at me."

Alex put his hands behind his back and turned to face his former commander. But he couldn't bring his eyes up.

"Alex." The word held a warmth Alex hadn't realized he'd missed. It had been months since the General used the shortened version of his name. He slowly raised his head until their eyes met. "I know you thought I was dismissing you yesterday by calling you 'Son' – somehow talking down to you – but I wasn't." Alex dropped his gaze again. "Do you know why I call you that sometimes?"

"No, Sir."

"It's not because I think less of you. It's because, in the time we've gotten to know each other, I've come to see you as more than just one of the men in my command. You're like a son to me, Alexander."

Alex stood in stunned silence. The weight of what he had done just 12 hours earlier fell on him hard, and tears suddenly stung his eyes.

But the General continued before he could form a coherent thought. "I'm not sending you home to punish you. Yes, you disobeyed me, but more than that, you're exhausted, and until you get some rest, you're useless to me. You haven't been thinking straight, and you put your fellow soldiers at risk. I can't have you in the field if I can't trust your judgment. You need a break. And you wife needs to see you."

Alex nodded, staring at his boots.

"However," he continued, "like I said, we need to talk about what happened."

Alex's head snapped up. "Sir, I'm so sorry…"

The General raised a hand, cutting him off.

"I know you are. And I accept your apology. But," he said pointedly, "I can't let you get away with that kind of insubordination, and you know it."

"Sir, you're already sending me home. What else is there?" Alex asked, raising his voice a bit more than he knew he should.

The General clenched his jaw and stared down at Alex for a moment. Then, Alex watched as he walked to his shaving station, and took the sharpening strap off its hook.

Alex swallowed hard, his eyes wide. "Sir…" he began.

"Alexander," the General answered sharply, "you disobeyed me, you raised your voice to me, and I intend to make sure neither of those things ever happen again."

Alex opened his mouth to argue, but the General gestured toward his desk with the strap, and Alex wisely closed it again. Swallowing hard, he took off his tunic leaving it on the chair next to him, turned toward the desk, reached down, and unbuttoned his trousers. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the General standing behind him, arms crossed. He let go of his trousers and let them drop to his knees, then began to bend over the desk. The General cleared his throat and Alex straightened and looked over his shoulder again.

"You know how this works, I'm sure," the General said, not unkindly.

"Sir, please," Alex begged.

The General shrugged, "We can do this in public if you'd like."

Alex sighed. "No, Sir." He slowly untied his underpants, and they joined his trousers at his knees. This was not Alex's first time on the receiving end of a commanding officer's punishment – he'd found himself bent over the barrel on more than one ship as a child, and he knew the rules of a whipping.

Before he'd even secured his grip on the edge of the desk, the strap fell, immediately sending a fiery signal from his backside to his brain. Wow! The General knew what he was doing!

The strapping lasted far longer than Alex would have liked, and by the time the last stroke fell at the top of his thighs he swore he'd never sit down again.

He quickly pulled his pants and trousers back up while the General went to hang the strap back on its hook, then stood stiffly with his hands behind his back.

The General walked back to him, put his hand on Alex's shoulder, and turned the younger man to face him. Placing a finger under his chin, he guided Alex's head up until their eyes met again. "I'm under no illusion this is the last time you'll find yourself bent over my desk, but I hope it's the last time I'll have to whip you for talking to me like that. I won't tolerate it, Alexander. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Alex whispered, a tear finally escaping down his cheek.

"Good. Now go get yourself cleaned up, check in with Cook to get some breakfast, and then I want you heading out of here within the hour. Your wife is expecting you by supper."

"Yes, Sir," Alex answered, quickly turning to leave the tent.

"And on your way, tell Burr I want to see him."

"Yes, Sir," Alex answered, a slight grin threatening his lips. At least Aaron was in trouble too.

* * *

John was waiting in their tent when Alex got back.

"Are you ok? What happened? Do you get to stay?" he asked, peppering Alex with questions too quickly to allow for answers.

Alex shook his head. "No, I still have to leave." He began to crouch down to pick up his trunk, but immediately straightened up, wincing.

"He whipped you too, huh?" John asked, matter-of-factly.

"Too?" Alex said, eyebrows raised.

John grimaced. "I went to ask him to let you off and to apologize for the duel, and I ended up getting twelve," he admitted.

"Only twelve?" Alex shot back with a grin.

John shrugged. "I just fought in a duel. You're the one who disobeyed him and yelled at him," he said teasingly.

Alex looked around for something to throw at his friend, but all of his belongings were locked safely in his trunk. Instead, he pretended to punch John in the stomach. John, who was taller and stronger, grabbed Alex around the neck and playfully punched back. Then he wrapped his best friend in a hug. "I'm going to miss you, Man."

"Me too," Alex answered, sobering. "But we'll see each other again when this war is over."

"Good," John answered. "Let me walk you to the edge of camp."

As the two friends walked past the General's tent, Alex dragging his trunk behind him, they heard the unmistakable sound of leather meeting skin. John looked quickly at Alex, his unspoken question clear. "Aaron," Alex answered.

"Good," John said with a wide grin. "Of all of us, that uptight prick deserves it the most."

"Preach!"


End file.
